


Cut it Out, then Restart (that's the plan, anyway)

by destielpasta



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Hand Holding, Heist, I can't do true slow burn, Juno has to show Peter he's changed and Peter has to show Juno that he hurt him, M/M, Making Up, Not a lot though, Pining, Post-Canon, Reunions, Sexual Tension, post-episode: s02e34 Juno Steel and the Soul of the People, rating will change in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: Juno Steel has boarded a space ship to the stars with two bank-robbing lesbians, a Man in a Brown Jacket that is now Jet (?), and his beloved Rita.And Peter Nureyev.Their next mission will take them across the stars to see new lands and face new problems-- and Juno knows they will do amazing things together.If only Nureyev would just talk to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there Penumbra fandom! This fic poured out of me in the wake of the amazing season finale. Can't wait to see what's in store for our "Be Gay, Do Crimes" gang, and here's my take on where the story could go next!

Peter Nureyev was a star.

Juno didn’t know which kind. Red dwarf, supernova–  he didn’t know fuck-all about stars come to think of it. Still, he would always be a lonely kid from Oldtown who spent a lot of his time looking up, counting the stars until he could forget the sound of addicts hacking up blood outside of his window. He made pictures by connecting them to the shimmering points of the Hyperion City dome. He named them while waiting for his mother to stop yelling at the television and finally fall asleep.

He hadn’t looked up at the stars with any kind of intention in a long time. It was daytime now, and the dome shimmered with yellow sunlight. Another star. Juno watched it move across the sky from the confines of the spaceship as it ascended, leaving Mars behind. The sun could hurt you though; you had to look away after a few seconds or your eyeballs could melt right out of their sockets. So they said, and he had listened.

You didn’t have to look away from the stars, unless they were too close.

Juno hadn’t looked too close when he helped Nureyev stow the Ruby 7 in the spaceship before takeoff. Nureyev had been full of small talk–  all _How are you?_ And _I heard about that nasty stint with the THEIA souls, good work there_ –  Juno had just nodded, his throat too thick with something unstoppable, immoveable.

Nureyev seemed content to ignore him after that, joking around with Buddy while preparing the ship and reacquainting himself with _my_ secretary once we had taken off and were out of Mar’s orbit. _My_ Rita.

“Oh! And then Mister Steel said ‘Bye-bye bug, brains only big enough for one Juno Steel, and _I’m_ just getting started’ and then the tower EXPLODED and bye-bye THEIA it _wasn’t_ nice knowing you.”

More like the tower just powered down successfully but Juno didn’t want to spoil her fun. _What’s the matter, boss? I can’t be friendly?_ She had said on the first night when Juno’s surliness had been at its peak. _We ain’t see him since the whole Rex Glass business and I know he got away from you but aren’t we all criminals now?_

The group was appreciative of Rita’s storytelling they nodded encouragingly at her last detail. They were in the main common area of the ship, with too-trendy lounge chairs and an espresso machine that took up practically an entire wall, along with a round table Juno imagined was for planning out their next bank robbery. It was day two on the ship, and everyone was starting to settle in. Juno had just adjusted to the rest of the crew referring to Nureyev as “Melvin Snaptwine” and Rita had dragged Juno out of his room for what she called ‘healthy socializing.’

“What happened next?” Buddy asked, leaning forward.

She shrugged, frowning now. Juno understood. The next part wasn’t nearly as exciting.

“Northstar Entertainment swooped down with their big cars and cleanup drones and swiped up all the THEIA souls, all those little chips that were controlling people, just _gone_ . Now it’s like some conspiracy thing, when we _saw_ it! Boss even still _has_ one, dontcha Mister Steel?”

Juno shrugged.

“What did you do with it, Juno?” The man in the brown–  Jet asked.

Juno sat up, lowering his feet from where they were propped up on the porthole window-sill. No time like the present to stop looking like a moody teenager.

“It’s safe.” He locked eyes with Nureyev for just a second before looking away. “Pardon me if I don’t tell the crime crew where I hid it.”

For a moment they just stared at him, but then Jet slapped his knee and erupted in laughter. Buddy threw her head back and let out banshee-like cackle and even Vespa cracked a smile.

“The–  Crime– Crew–” Jet wheezed, his booming voice constricted from the laughter.

“Forgive me if I steal that, Juno,” Nureyev said, grinning like a cat. “I always did like a team name, when I was on a team worthy of it.”

“Help yourself,” Juno mumbled.

Buddy stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. “Well now that Steel has come out of shell, I’m heading to bed. We have plans to make in the morning.Vespa?”

Vespa took her wife’s offered hand and followed her with a flip of neon green hair. Jet was already conversing enthusiastically with Rita about some sort of hacking language that Rita had invented (when?) and Nureyev was still staring at Juno.

Juno took a deep breath through his nose, looking up and tapping his foot on the fiberglass floor.

“I’m going to bed.” He stood up, stopped, then decided to keep going, which probably looked like some kind of awkward two-step dance. “Yeah, bed.”

Nureyev stood up as well, much to Juno’s dismay.

“Mind if I walk with you? I need to stretch my legs periodically on spaceships. Blood Clots, you know?

Juno would call this attempt #28 of Nureyev trying to get a moment alone with him. So far, it was Juno Steel: 27, Peter Nureyev: 0.

“Sure. I mean, no, I don’t mind. It’d be nice to catch up.”

Peter Nureyev: 1

The spaceship wasn’t large, and once you left the main atrium and descended to the lower level where the sleeping pods were, you became intimately acquainted with that fact. Pods were a generous term. Mostly they were stall-like closets with a bed, a closet that could maybe fit one pair of pants, and a porthole the size of a dinner plate.

They hallways narrowed the further you traveled. They could have walked single file, but of course Nureyev stayed right by his side, his hand brushing Juno’s on every third swing of their arms.

Of course he was counting.

“So what do you think of our humble craft?” Nureyev asked, gesturing around as much as the space allowed. “Buddy and Vespa own it, in case that wasn’t obvious, but I was just so happy when they told me they were trying to put a team together.”

“It’s… nice.”

Juno vigorously tried to remember that he was happy to be here. Happy to leave Hyperion city. Happy to start a new life with new people and Rita by his side.

And Peter Nureyev.

“More than nice. But I’m no expert on spaceships.”

Nureyev smiled. “I’m just happy you approve.”

They walked in silence for another few moments. Juno’s room was the farthest from the atrium, giving them many opportunities for awkward silences.

“How long have you known Buddy?” Juno asked, trying to fill that silence.

“Buddy? Well, she was always a contact of mine in the Cerberus Province. I was still young when she and Vespa fell off the map, but she always welcomed me to Mars if I needed advice or a contact–  just someone who really knows the business.”

Juno hummed his understanding. “And Jet?”

“Well, Jet Sikuliaq is a legend among thieves. It’s just an honor to be working with him. And he doesn’t hold it against me that I own the Ruby 7 now.”

“Honor amongst thieves.”

“Maybe. But we work well together,” Nureyev said, stopping in front of Juno’s door. “I think we all will work well together.”

Juno stood in the doorway while Nureyev swung around to give him more room, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked behind his back.

“Well, this is my stop.”

“Indeed.”

Juno thought about the time Nureyev wrote him a letter behind his back.

“Nureyev, I–” He stopped.

_I’m sorry. I never should have left you, but I’m a better person now. I can be a better person now. For you._

Instead he sighed, pressing a hand over his eye-patch, trying to scratch an itch that was barely there anymore. It had been months since the THEIA soul had been removed, but he could still feel it crawling around his thoughts, invading his mind.

A cool hand took Juno’s, gently lifting it away from his face.

“None of that,” Nureyev whispered. Whether he was talking about Juno itching his eye or Juno trying to apologize, he didn’t know.  Nureyev’s eyes were like a sandstorm and a radiation wave all at once. Why couldn’t Juno ever look away when he looked at him like that—

A second passed, and his hand was gone.

“You don’t have to say anything, Juno. We can just start fresh.”

Juno blinked. “Start… fresh?”

Nureyev smiled. “Yes. I would prefer it, in fact. Leave everything behind on along with the Martian atmosphere. We finally get to work together for real now, and we should make it as easy as possible.”

Easy.

Juno pursed his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

Nureyev nodded, enthusiastically. “It is. Now, I’ll wish you good night. Get some rest, Detective Steel.”

Juno wished him goodnight and watched him go, leaving him in the doorway to his room wondering what the hell had just happened.

 

* * *

 

Juno Steel was a ticking time bomb.

Peter Nureyev had never been one for explosives. They were messy, unnecessary most of the time, and a pain in the ass to dismantle. As a rule Peter tried his best to keep bombs, grenades, and anything remotely incendiary out of his arsenal. There just wasn’t a place for them in his line of work.

And then there was Juno Steel.

Peter was alone at the breakfast table the next morning, pouring some synth-milk into his _Nutrition-O’s!!._ He had a slight headache, and he hadn’t eaten much the night before, having been too engrossed with watching Juno stare out the window to fully enjoy his reconstituted stew. He had thought that reassuring Juno that he didn’t need any special conversation or apology would help, but Juno had just looked lost and…

Peter didn’t work with bombs, and that was that.

Peter heard some aggressive humming coming from down the hall and the unmistakable shuffling of Juno’s former secretary-turned intergalactic hacker–  Rita was her name.

“Good mornin’!”

He smiled in response, wishing her a good morning as well even though they were as far from a rising sun as you could get. Rita always seemed to approach each interaction with the utmost enthusiasm, and Peter could respect such blind friendliness. She shuffled around the kitchen in her huge, fluffy pink slippers, gathering the ingredients to scramble some eggs.

“Can I tempt ya?” She asked, holding up the carton.

He pointed down at his somewhat soggy cereal. “Thank you, but I’m all set.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She propped up her comms against the toaster while she sloppily cracked lab-grown eggs one-handed into an orange plastic bowl. With the other hand she dialed, and a rather sleep-addled looking detective answered on the other line.

“Rita… You’re calling me... and we’re on a spaceship…”

“Time to get up boss! Buddy and Jet say you gotta keep yourself on a strict routine or your brain could turn to mush out in space! Now I’m gonna make you some breakfast and you just get yourself down here chop-chop!!!”

Juno groaned over the line.

“How are you still calling me on a spaceship?”

“It’s a closed system, Mister Jet showed me. And no buts Mister Steel, you better get outta bed right now!”

“Alright alright, just lemme–”

The line went black, like Juno had hit the comms with his elbow and knocked it off of his bedside table. Peter hid a smile behind his spoon.

Juno stumbled into the kitchen more than a few minutes later, his hair flat to one side of his head and his arm already reaching for–

“Coffee,” he said, as if a mug of the steaming beverage could just appear in his hand. “Rita if there isn’t coffee I’m gonna lose it real quick.”

“Oh calm down or you’ll give yourself a migraine.”

Rita pushed a cup of coffee into Juno’s outstretched hand and he cradled the mug as if it were a baby bird with a broken wing. He carefully set it on the table before sitting across from Peter.

He cleared his throat. “Sleep well, Juno?”

“Huh?” Juno’s head popped up. His eyes were dry and tired “Pretty good, if not sleeping at all counts as pretty good.”

“Hmm, you must be adjusting to sleeping without the natural patterns of night and day.”

“Something like that.” Juno takes a sip from his mug, relaxing back into his chair. “So what are we doing? We can’t just be on this fancy ship to sit around. Why didn’t we stay in the Cerberus Province?”

Peter set his spoon down. “Buddy will fill you in on the details. I have a feeling she wants to explain it all herself.”

Juno sat back in his chair. “And you’re good playing second fiddle to Buddy?”

Juno asked the weirdest questions sometimes. You can take a private eye away from his desk but you couldn’t take the private eye _out_ of the man, apparently.

Peter shrugged. “Second fiddle has always been as good a place as any.”

Juno raised his eyebrows but didn’t honor him with a response. Instead, he took a large sip of coffee and spoke over his shoulder to Rita.

“How many streams did you pack?”

She smiled and cracked what had to be her twentieth egg. “Enough to keep me busy in case space travel and thieving turned out to be boring.”

If Peter could, he would bottle Juno’s smile. Have it cast in gold. Something to keep the fond smile he directed at his former secretary safe, and maybe pointed in Peter’s direction.

He turned back to Peter. “She’s the only one who’s ever prepared for anything.”

“I can see that.”

Buddy took that moment to make herself known, appearing in the kitchen doorway like a flaming shadow.

“Atrium. Ten minutes, you three.”

Rita held up her skillet, full to the brim.

“Eggs?”

Buddy smiled like she would at a child. Well, at a child that had the potential to make her a lot of money.

“No, thank you, Rita.” She turned to Juno. “Better perk up, Steel. Early to bed, early to rise, you know.”

Juno made an unintelligible noise about being exhausted, but from behind his coffee mug his eyes sparkled.

Peter was doomed. Who was this man and what had he done with Juno Steel?

Rita managed to talk them both into huge plates of scrambled eggs, and Peter had to admit it was nice to have a hot breakfast served with a very warm smile. They left a pile of dishes in the sink and went to meet up with the rest of the team in the main atrium. Rita insisted that she would be along in a minute.

Buddy had installed a large round table in the main room, a bit old fashioned “villain conference” for Peter’s taste, but who was he to judge? She sat at the apex with Vespa to her side, while Jet peered out the front window.

Juno leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Who’s driving this thing?”

Peter suppresses a shiver. Close. Too Close. He swallowed.

“Really, Juno. This ship has a autopilot AI.”

Juno whistled. “Guess I’m not in the Martian desert anymore.”

Vespa cleared her throat.

“If you two would stop canoodling, we’re ready to get started,” Buddy said, tapping her fingers impatiently.  

Juno left a seat open between him and Vespa, presumably for Jet, and Peter took the other one beside him. Juno rested his hands on the tabletop, then rested them in his lap, then settled on crossing his arms over his chest. He was nervous. If this were a different timeline, Peter would lay a soothing hand on his thigh, perhaps whisper one or two reassuring endearments in his ear…

Instead it was the worst timeline, and Peter folded his hands on top of the table and waited for Buddy to begin.

She cleared her throat as soon as Jet took his seat .

“Well, now that we’ve completely cleared Martian space and anything bugging our ship, we can finally get down to business. Vespa?”

Buddy’s wife didn’t speak much, even before her tragedy, and Peter had always been more Buddy’s friend than hers. She held her head high, however, and spoke in a hoarse but decisive voice.

“The debt collectors of the Cerberus Province are losing ground. If we are to put an end to the whole system, we have to strike. Soon.” She took a shaking breath in. “We have received word from a trusted contact that the cure mother base is found on Triton, Neptune’s largest natural moon. It’s a secret facility, kept that way by a certain select clientele.”

“Let me guess,” Juno says, holding up a finger. “Super-rich people go there to get cured of diseases everyone else gets to die from.”

“Precisely, Juno.” Buddy gently flips her wing of hair away from her face, somewhat revealing the ashen remains of her face underneath before it bounces back into place. “In order to free the indentured servants of the Cerberus Province, we must steal the host of the cure mother.”

Juno’s face scrunched up like a toddler’s. “The host? Like an origin?”

“Yes,” Vespa said. “The scientist who created the first Cure Mother died before the war, but she left behind the host, and it’s where every ounce of cure mother in the galaxy comes from.”

“Let me guess…”

“We have to steal it, Juno,” Peter said, leaning forward. “Or at least a piece of it. If we have the hose we can grow a endless supply of cure mother, theoretically, and the Cerberus Province will be free from the debt collectors.”

“Snaptwine’s right,” Jet said, and Peter watched Juno’s mouth twitch a little and the sound of Peter’s fake name. “The Cerberus Province would be free, and we could set off a chain reaction that could help free the rest of the debtor’s colonies in the galaxy.”

Juno nodded. “You have to start somewhere.”

Buddy smiled. “Exactly. I’m glad you understand the weight of this situation.”

Juno shrugged, and for once there wasn’t the weight of world behind that gesture.

“So how do we do it? Formal heist? Good thing my whole wardrobe is black, right?”

Peter looked down, smirking.

“Well Juno,” Buddy continues. “The facility in question is aimed at the super-rich, as you said, and is attached to a health spa of sorts.”

She looked at Peter for a moment, asking a question with her eyes, and he nodded. Why not really? What did he have to lose?

“The inner workings of the facility are top secret, and unhackable,” he said. “There isn’t so much as a floor plan that’s accessible to the general public, never mind information like the guard rotation that could actually be helpful to a traditional heist.”

Juno’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, then the light entered his eyes, and his mouth relaxed into a frown. He knew.

Buddy jumped on the realization. “Snaptwine here has informed me that you have worked together before, undercover, on the Miasma case.”

Juno scoffed, smirking. He turned to Peter. “You can’t be serious.”

Peter grinned. “Oh we’re serious, Dahlia, and you better be too if you want this case.”

“It is common sense that a cover that has worked before can work again,” Jet said. “All of the people who knew you as Duke and Dahlia Rose are deceased now. You are comfortable with the cover, but no one else knows about it. Do you understand now, Juno Steel?”

Juno threw his head back and let out an exasperated noise. “I get it, but–”

“It’s settled then,” Vespa interrupted impatiently. Peter had the idea that she didn’t have the patience to deal with the full spectrum of human emotions these days.  

“The credit’s have been transferred to Snaptwine’s account and the reservation has been made. You must infiltrate the spa facility and learn all you can about it’s patterns. Buddy and I will make preparations for you to pick up the spa’s shuttle on Neso. I suggest you prepare yourselves.”

Juno looked like her had something else to say but in that moment there was a crash, then a muffled yell, and then Rita chose to make her entrance, her entire front drenched in water.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, panting dramatically. “Sinks on spaceships don’t work like regular sinks.” She sat down, wringing water from her hair and letting it splatter to the floor.

Buddy interjects. “Uh, Rita–  we were just talking about–”

“Yeah yeah I heard you from the hall. Sounds like you’ll need someone to hack into the facility’s mainframe. Once Mister Steel and Agent Glass or Snaptwine or whatever he wants me to call him are in, it won’t be a problem.”

They all watched Rita in awe, and Peter saw Juno’s panic settle into a look of pride.

“That is wonderful, Rita,” Jet said. “Let us know what you need to proceed.”

Rita started rattled off her list of equipment to him, using all ten fingers to list several servers and drives she would need and started on her toes when she need to tell her monitor specifications. Vespa and Buddy wandered away to talk amongst themselves, and it was clear that the meeting was unofficially over.

Juno sat with his arms still crossed, looking down.

“Last time I was Dahlia Rose I almost got us killed,” he said.

Peter swallowed. An even tone was what this needed, not any of the silly urges he had to stroke Juno’s arm and lace their fingers together...

“Come now, you almost got _yourself_ killed remember? You were the collateral.”

Juno laughed, unfolding his arms and setting his hands on his thighs, as if he was bracing himself.

Peter had suggested it. Not that he would tell Juno that, but he had. On the way to Mars when Buddy had outlined her plan, when she told him that they were going to pick up a scrappy former private eye with a penchant for saving the day and his brilliant hacker secretary, he told her about Duke and Dahlia and how they had saved the world in a small way a few years ago. It was only one of the dozens of names Buddy had known him by, and she had accepted it with a knowing nod.

“Chin up.” He stood, giving in to one small urge by laying a hand on Juno’s shoulder. That was a safe spot. A friendly place. “We have preparations to make. Disguises to assemble. This will be fun, Juno.”

Juno looked at his hand resting on his shoulder, then up at Peter’s face. He reddened, Juno’s piercing gaze boring a hole in his soul.

“Lead the way, Duke.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I mistakingly called a moon of Neptune "Titan" in the last chapter when I meant to call "Triton." The mistake has been corrected in the last chapter and it will now be "Triton."
> 
> This chapter references events in the Rita Minute episode: Happy Birthday, Mistah Steel! so be sure to listen to that if you haven't already.

Juno felt a strange sense of deja vu. He was exhausted, for one. Feeling that sense of exhaustion in an unfamiliar hotel room while holding a lavender colored piece of stationary and staring down at familiar script reminded him entirely too much of a time gone by.

 

_My Darling Dahlia,_

_I went down to the bar while you were in the shower, come find me and we’ll have a drink before dinner. Wear that shirt I bought you. And don’t eat too many of the candied almonds, you’re sweet enough!_

_Miss you already!_

_Your beloved,_

_Duke_

 

“Ugh.” Juno grimaced, shoving a handful of the same almonds into his mouth out of pure spite. If there were cameras in this room and someone saw him look at a letter from “his beloved” like that then the jig was probably already up on this job.

He schooled his face into a neutral expression and sat down on the bed. He could use a drink, and after the day they had experienced, he wasn’t surprised Nureyev needed one too.

They were starting fresh, after all.

The day had begun at a god-forsaken early hour when they had boarded the spaceships’s pod and jetted off toward Neptune’s tiny moon, Neso, to catch the shuttle to the CURE-ALL RESORT AND SPA_top_secret. Catching the top secret shuttle to the _top secret_ location meant watching Nureyev use a forged invitation to convince a heavily armed security guard that he belonged there, while Juno sweated profusely with the luggage behind him. Once they had boarded the shuttle it was smooth sailing to Triton, and to the secret dormant volcano that housed the resort.

All in a day’s work for a master thief. All Juno could think about was how he had caught criminals and cheaters this way, by following the trails they left behind. Now he was the one leaving trails.

He blew out a stressed breath, looking up at the ceiling in nothing more than his towel and still dripping wet from the shower. He had panicked when he didn’t hear Nureyev milling around the room, and had ran out with suds still in his hair to find the letter. Suffice to say, he was on edge.

He resigned himself to get ready to meet Nureyev, scanning the room for the ridiculous turquoise luggage Rita had insisted he bring on the mission.

_It just screams opulence, Mister Steel! You can’t go there with a duffel bag from your old bowling days and expect them to take you seriously as a gajillion-aire!_

He found it on the floor of the closet, mostly empty, with all of clothes tucked into drawers and his “nicer” outfits hung up in the closet. Nureyev must have unpacked them while Juno was taking his customary 45-minute shower.

Juno ran has hands over the clothes; silks shirts, tweed jackets, a pair of suit pants that had an organza cape flowing from the waistband–  all expensive as hell and suitable for Dahlia Rose.

He chose a familiar shirt and a pair of slim black pants and laid them out on the bed, remembering how Nureyev had helped him pack on the spaceship the night before. Juno had just laid out his concerns about the Duke and Dahlia cover and Nureyev had hand-waved it away like the wispy silk top he had been holding:

“I see where you’re coming from, Juno. But really, the Miasma case wasn’t typical. We were under so much more of a… what would you call it?”

“A threat of death?”

“I was going to say a time crunch but suit yourself,” he said, as casual as if they had been talking about Sunday brunch and not weeks of suffering at the hands of a Martian madwoman. “Now try that on. The flowers match your eyes.”

Nureyev tossed Juno the top; he sat Juno’s bed, eyebrows furrowed as he rifled through his large collection of disguises and personal clothing. They needed to look like a married couple that was richer than the whole populace of Hyperion City, and Juno had brought a trenchcoat and four pairs of black jeans with him. Not exactly the picture of decadence.

Juno stripped down to his undershirt. “We’re not the same size, Nureyev.”

“Oh I know, we can’t all have the biceps of private investigators.”

“I’m being serious.”

Nureyev aimed a tight-lipped smile at him. “So was I. Now try on that shirt. It’s not mine, if that makes you feel better.”

Juno grumbled as he thrust his arms through the sleeves and fed the buttons through the meticulously sewn silk buttonholes. He usually didn’t have the patience for clothes that couldn’t spend the night on his floor and still be wearable the next day, but when looked in the mirror he had to admit, the shirt looked… nice.

Nureyev had clapped his hands together with success. “Wonderful. You’ll wear that tomorrow. Now, there must be a matching pocket square around here somewhere…”

Starting fresh. That was what they were doing. Starting fresh.

He looked in the hotel’s mirror, wearing the top Peter Nureyev had picked out for him and the new identity that had been fashioned for him by his new team. Buddy had even lended him one of her own red silk eye patches. A little gel in his curls completed the look.

He sighed.

 _Growth, Steel_ , he scolded himself, _Remember all your growth._

The resort side of the hotel wasn’t much different from the Oasis Casino and Resort. Gilded walls that shimmered different colors depending on the time of day and mood of the passerby, garishly clad waitstaff that always had a tray of drinks to shove under your nose, comms systems that linked to the kitchen that could bring your any food from any part of the galaxy at any time of day... typical rich people stuff. Where they hadn’t been was the “spa” side, where people went to receive “treatments” for the various ills that ailed them.

He wound his way through the halls and down the crystal elevator towards the bar and restaurant. He meandered over to a woman in hotel regalia, pitching his voice a fifth higher and dragging his gait just a little.

“I’m looking for my husband–  you know, a tall, thick milkshake of a man that should have wandered through here earlier. He said he was at the bar, but I’m just not good with directions. Do you think you could show a lady where to go?”

She smiled patronizingly, obviously very used to this sort of customer.

 _If Nureyev could play a part_ , he thought smugly, following her with a flourish, _so could Juno Steel._

 

* * *

 

Peter sipped modestly at his gin and ginger cocktail, the very picture of the best elegance and poise that money could buy. He had never had a problem playing the part of the refined and snobby man of leisure, nose firmly in the air and wallet stuffed with credits. Though, it wasn’t anywhere near his favorite guise he had taken on in his years of experience, that credit was saved for the flirty and snappy Dark Matters agent whose penchant for sunglasses and sublime kissing skills had wooed a stubborn private investigator.

“Is this seat taken?”

Peter turned mid-sip to see the very same private investigator stuffing a generous tip into the front pocket of a rather dumbfounded hotel employee, patting said pocket appreciatively.

“Thank you, sweetheart, you’re real gem.”

Juno turned from the dumbfounded employee and _breezed_ onto the barstool next to Peter, pecking him lightly on the cheek before he could fully register that the warmth of Juno’s lips. It left Peter cold, and in the next breath Juno ordered a tall and fruity cocktail from the bartender who made it appear seemingly out of nowhere. He was wearing a pair of black satin pants–   _tight_ satin pants–  and the floral shirt Peter had picked out for him the evening before.

He cleared his throat. “I see you saw fit to listen to me, Dahlia.”

Juno settled elegantly into his seat, finally resting his gaze on Peter. “I’m nothing if not obedient, Duke.”

Peter swallowed. The whole point of meeting at the bar had been to cement their cover for the hotel employees, make everyone believe they were nothing more than a lovesick couple on a vacation to get Dahlia Rose a new eye.

He hadn’t counted on Juno playing the part _well_.

“What do you want to do tonight?”

Juno’s new-found silken voice brought him out of his stupor.

“What? Oh–  tonight.” Peter sat up taller, remembering his part as the doting and loving spouse. “I thought we could go out onto the veranda to watch the evening parade. After dinner, of course.”

Juno took another sip of his drink, smiling warmly. “That sounds lovely. You know how much I love parades.”

“Yes, I do. And there will be some important people there as well.”

Juno pursed his lips coyly. “How important?”

Peter clenched his fist until his fingernails bit into his palm. Then he relaxed his hand and reached out, brushing his fingers over the left side of Juno’s face.

“Important enough to fix you a beautiful new eye, my love.”

Juno shivered under his fingers, and Peter lowered his hand, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and accomplishment.

“Dinner?”

They were shown to a table by the window with a wonderful view of Apolla, Triton’s largest and richest city. It was a more secluded location than the bar, and the waiter served them champagne and prattled on about the night’s specials before leaving them alone.

“You certainly have adjusted to undercover life.” Peter said, keeping his expression smooth and smiling. “Obviously, you had nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not that I didn’t think I could do it.” Juno took a sip of champagne. “You caught me off guard last time. With the casino and Miasma and… everything.”

Peter let that last word rattle around in his head. Then he smiled, sitting back.  

“Really, when are you ever caught on your guard?”

Juno shrugged. “You’re probably right.”

An attendant came by to fill their water glasses. Peter tapped his nails on the tabletop, scanning the room. Buddy had quizzed him on the upper echelons of Neptunian society while they were on the way to Mars to pick up Juno and Rita. There wasn’t a face he couldn’t pick out in a crowd.

“Anyone listening?” Juno asked, some of the characteristic sharpness returning to his tone.

Peter shook his head. “No one important. It must be more fashionable to eat dinner earlier these days. I can’t keep up with Neptunian customs.”

“So what are we really doing at the parade?” Juno asked in a low voice. “I assume we’re not there just to check out the floats.”

Peter shook his head. “We need to keep a look out for the resort’s primary investor, Thompson Massery. He spends all of his summers here, and is quite the partier from what I’ve heard.”

“What do we need from him?”

“As the top investor in the resort, he insists on being kept up to date on the security of the medical facilities. Security codes, DNA-based access rooms, and–”

The waiter returned with a comms to take their order and Peter shifted gears immediately to talking about Triton’s active volcanoes. Juno smiled at the waiter as he placed his order, and Peter was reminded of their conversation from the night before. Peter had helped Juno pack, then zipped up his suitcase with gusto and was gathering up the discarded clothes from the floor:

“There, all ready to be a rich socialite. Now you should get some rest, the shuttle will have to take off early tomorrow morning to time our descent on Neso.”

“Nureyev?”

“Hmm?”

Peter looked up. Juno was back in his own clothes after trying on numerous outfits that would soon belong to Dahlia Rose. He had his hands on his hips and looked exhausted.

“So uh… I’m going to need you to take the lead on this. This whole going undercover thing.”

Peter blinked. This was new.

“I would have thought a private eye would know all there is to know about hiding in plain sight.”

“Hiding in plain sight I can do. It’s the… acting part. I didn’t exactly do a great job playing Duke Rose last time we did this.”

“I didn’t think you tried at all…” Peter crossed his arms, thinking. “Don’t play anything. Just be yourself, but with a different name, and a different backstory. Who would Juno Steel be if he had half of the money in the galaxy and a… well some kind of taste in fashion?”

Juno laughed, smirking. “Then I wouldn’t be me.”

Peter shook his head. “No, you’re not understanding. We’re not defined by what we have or what has happened to us. There’s something inside of us that makes us who we are, no matter what name we have at the moment. If you act as yourself, you don’t have to act at all.”

Juno nodded, glancing out the porthole at the stars flying by them.

“Are you nervous?” Peter asked slowly.

“I’m not nervous,” Juno snapped. “It’s just my first job in a while.”

“Is that all?”

There was a beat of silence. The soundproofing on Buddy’s ship was terrible. You could easily hear Rita’s streams through the walls, and listen in on the various sounds of Buddy and Vespa fighting–  and then _not_ fighting. Peter couldn’t hear Juno’s thoughts, and that would never cease to bother him. If only he knew...

“Ramses O’Flaherty gave me an eye.” Juno said slowly, as if weighing each word on an old-fashioned scale. “And then I had to get rid of it. I still haven’t tried much sharp shooting with one eye.”

“You might not have to shoot anything on this job.” Peter stepped closer. “If I recall correctly what Jet said, you saved Hyperion City with only one eye.”

“Yeah but that was…” Juno sighed, shaking his head. “Different.”

“Different how?”

Juno grimaced, shrugging. Peter’s hand itched. He had already touched Juno’s shoulder at the meeting earlier. Why had he wasted it on breakfast?

Juno turned to face him, his eyes limitless, bottomless.

“It was just different. We better get some sleep if we’re going to catch the shuttle in the morning.”

Peter smiled, the air in the room suddenly much colder. He took a step back.

“Of course, you’re right.” He stopped at the doorway, turning around. “And Juno?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to use more discretion with my name.”

Juno laughed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Duke?”

Peter was thrusted back to the present, suddenly back in the Resort with another new name and Juno’s hand on top of his own–  and Juno looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Peter nodded, pulling his hand out from under Juno’s and taking a generous gulp of champagne.

“Sorry, daydreaming. Are you ready to go? The parade will be starting soon.”

Peter’s plate was half-full but he had suddenly lost his appetite. Thankfully, Juno didn’t comment on it.

“Shall we?” Juno asked, holding out his hand.

Peter smiled, his heart racing. He took it.

“Lead the way, dear.”

 

* * *

 

If you made a list of the things Juno Steel hated, parades probably wouldn’t be at the very top, but they would be close. So many people and they were all so loud, clamoring for a better view or  cotton candy in every shade of radioactive green you could think of or just speaking louder than usual. For the hell of it.

Somehow, Juno offering Nureyev his hand turned into Nureyev lacing their fingers together and then _that_ turned into them linking arms and now the sides of their bodies were pressed together as they walked outside to the veranda where most of the hotel guests were waiting for the resort’s traditional “Parade at Dusk.” He hadn’t been able to help it, Nureyev had looked so lost in that moment, as if he were the novice criminal and Juno was here to show him the ropes. Now, he had all six feet of Nureyev’s body heat pressing into him in the downright volcanic Triton heat.

A man can only be so strong.

“Look out for a short man wearing the brightest shade of red lipstick you’ve ever seen,” Nureyev whispered into his ear. “Dark hair, mustache. That’s Massery. He also owns one of the biggest makeup conglomerates among the solar planets.”

At least walking this close eased the stress of communicating unheard. It was really the little things, Juno thought.  

Juno nodded, swallowing back a lump in his throat and sharpening his gaze to look for the man Nureyev described.

“Why do we need him specifically again?” he asked, grimacing when a child no taller than his elbow bumped into him.

“He knows every security access code to both the resort and the medical facility. Getting close to him will get us closer to what we want. And we need those access codes to get Rita into the system so that we can communicate with Buddy’s ship.”

Nureyev pulled Juno out of the way of a large family breezing by. They all wore matching hats in the shape of Neptunian swamp cats.

 _Ugh_.

“Rita doesn’t need codes to hack into something. And I’m sure he’s not the only one who has access, _Duke_.”

Nureyev squeezed his arm. Hard. Juno nearly split his tongue in two from the effort of not flinching.

“You’re right, _Dahlia_ , but he’s also the only one who is an idiot. This is a delicate job. We need to play it safe. As for Rita, I’m sure she is more than capable, but hacking leaves a trail we just can’t afford–” His gaze darted around the veranda, landing on one target. “Look sharp, there he is.”

Juno followed his gaze, just in time for a large crowd to part, revealing a short, black-haired man who was wearing lipstick so red that it made his lips look stained with blood, just like Nureyev had said.

“How are we going to get to him? He’s surrounded by people.”

“We’re going to wait.”

“Wait?”

“Yes, Dahlia. Our sources say that Massery always watches the entire parade, _every_ night. Most people clear out after Apolla’s float. No one cares about the lesser moons.”

“That’s rude of them.”

“Precisely. We are going to be here, waiting, and Massery will see that we are men of taste. Or at least, of _his_ taste. Then, we will strike up a conversation.”

Juno nodded, plastering the same silly smile onto his face that he saw on everyone else’s. He steered them over to an empty spot of fence to watch the parade, keeping Massery within their sightline.

“This better not take too long,” Juno mumbled.

“It’s only three hours.”

“What?”

Just then a loud _BOOM_ sounded throughout the space, and suddenly the dusky veranda was illuminated with white light, enough to make Juno’s eye water. It soon cleared, revealing a chrome spaceship hovering above them, a figure perched on top of it brandishing a microphone.

“Goooooooood evening! My name is Wanda Ashman and will be your host for this Parade at Dusk! And might I just give a hearty WELCOME to all our new guests who have come to stay with us at theeeeeeeeeee………….”

Suddenly the audience chimed in, nearly scaring Juno right out of his skin.

“CURE ALL RESORT AND SPA!!!!”

Everyone cheered, the sound nearly defining. Someone shoved a glass of champagne into his hand not currently linked with Nureyev.

“A toast!” Wanda said, holding up her own glass. “To all of our esteemed guests, and to the those who have worked so hard to be a part of the parade tonight! Here here!”

“Here here!” the audience chanted in unison.

“Should I be creeped out?” Juno whispered. “Are they going to take my kidney?”

Nureyev shook his head, barely suppressing a laugh by the look of his mouth.

“And nooooowwww, let’s get on with our show! Our first float hails all the way from Earth, our home away from home always starting the show…”

Earth’s float looked like someone had souped up a spaceship so that the exterior looked like a constantly undulating ocean, the waves crashing with all sorts of sea creatures jumping in and out, and a very convincing mermaid. Juno watched, somewhat amazed–  the only bodies of water he had ever seen were the sad lakes outside of Hyperion City the school took Oldtown kids to sometimes.

“They love to brag about all that water on Earth, but they don’t compare to the rings of Saturn!”

“Ugh, rings again. We get it, your planet has rings.” Nureyev huffed, finally unhooking his arm from Juno’s and leaning against the fence as Saturn’s swirling torrent of a float passed them by. “No one can ever think of anything more interesting about Saturn than those damn rings.”

Nureyev seemed genuinely grumpy about it, and it made Juno smile. The only time he had ever seen Nureyev grumpy was when it had been directed at _him_.

The floats passed them by, some getting booming applause from the hotel onlookers and others only yawns and boos and thrown drinks. Nureyev had occasional commentary on each planet’s design, but mostly they kept quiet. After a while, Nureyev took his hand again, lacing their fingers together, _again_.

“For the cover,” he mouthed, turning back to watch the parade.

Of course.

No other float received better applause that the float from Apolla, Triton’s biggest city and the closest to the resort. It wasn’t so much a spaceship as it was a greenhouse. Synthetic flowers covering every surface and people dressed as fairies and sprites danced among them–  and on the top, much to Juno’s confusion, there was…

“Is that…” Juno squinted. “A sunflower garden? On a spaceship?”

“People use dome tech to do all sorts of crazy things, Dahlia. Being able to smell a fresh flower in the middle of space does wonders for the psyche.”

Juno raised his eyebrows. “Yeah but… _real_ sunflowers? The synthetic kind smell great and give off oxygen, why go through the effort?”

Nureyev shrugged, as if it wasn’t a subject that was interesting to him either way. His pursed his lips, his brow furrowed as if he were concentrating on something hard enough to take effort.

“Did you get the flowers I sent?” He asked slowly after a few moments, like he was testing out how the words felt in his mouth.

Juno looked at him, confused, _then_ –  

“So that _was_ you.”

Nureyev nodded, smiling another half-smile. This one was different. Sincere. Fond.

“I wouldn’t forget your birthday.”

Juno’s heart thudded in his chest.

“I don’t even know yours,” he muttered.

Nureyev squeezed his hand, gazing at were they were joined.

“That’s alright. I never told you.”

Juno didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled on silence. They watched the floats, held hands, and were the very picture of domestic vacation bliss. Still, Juno’s heart thudded. He knew that Rita had tried and failed to throw him a party on his last birthday, which had been a relief more than anything, but he had gone to the bathroom for one minute to check his day-old eyeliner and then flowers had appeared along with a card written in very familiar handwriting.

He pitched his voice low, a whisper, really.

“Nureyev–”

Nureyev’s sharp gaze shut him up. _Not here_ , it said. No name here, and he meant it. They couldn’t afford slips on their first day.

Juno sighed. A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Captain Khan said _Steel, you win some, and then you lose some, got it? Now get back to work._

The three hours didn’t exactly fly by, but it wasn’t as bad as Juno thought it would be. Once Apolla’s float was gone some seats opened up and they found a bench nearer to where Massery was holding court with his admirers. The last few floats weren’t all that impressive, obviously they didn’t save the best for last.

Nureyev began to yawn with increasing frequency. “I suppose the the day’s travels are catching up with me.”

He leaned against Juno’s shoulder.

“Make yourself comfortable there, Duke.”

“I will, Dahlia, thank you.”

Juno huffed a laugh as Nureyev settled in against his shoulder. It was all for the cover, he told himself, all for the poor saps who were enslaved by the people who owned their blood filters. Nureyev’s breathing slowed and evened out even amongst the cacophony of the veranda, and Juno had to admit–  

It wasn’t the worst job he’d ever had.

“Couldn’t keep himself awake for the whole thing, yes?”

Juno looked to the side in the direction of the new voice, and there, as if being served to him on a silver platter, was Thompson Massery.

“It’s been a long day,” Juno said, pitching his voice higher and lighter. “We just arrived here this morning.”

“I understand.” Massery took a seat next to Juno. “I have the utmost respect for those that have the stamina to stay until the end of our historic parade here.”

Juno tried to identify his accent. Definitely outer rim–  but light, aristocratic.

“So which was your favorite? Earth? Saturn?”

Juno kept his voice even. “Well, the flowers on Apolla’s float were very impressive.”

Massery wrinkled his nose. “Bah–  flowers! Apolla is so one-note, yes? I always stay until the end to see the real treasures.”

Juno wracked his brain for the few things Nureyev had told him about Massery. He could only remember that he was an idiot.

“I suppose that’s smart.”

Always flatter an idiot.

Massery smiled, holding out his hand. “Thompson Massery. I’m a prime investor in this establishment. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Juno took it. “Dahlia Rose. My husband and I are vacationing from Mars.”

Massery laughed. “You must need a vacation if you come from Mars, yes?”

Juno laughed, probably too hard.  

“You are funny, Mr. Rose. What fun plans do you have for your stay in our fine resort?”

“We can’t wait to explore everywhere, for sure,” Juno started. “But we are here to see the doctors at the medical center.”

He pointed at his eye patch.

“Ah, but I should have guessed, yes?” Massery slapped his knee. “You are in good hands. The best! When is your appointment?”

“Not for two weeks, I’m afraid.”

Massery frowned. “So long?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev still sleeping on his shoulder. “Yes. It is a shame. My Duke has always wanted to see the facility. A dream of his, really. He’s a medical enthusiast.”

“Well, it is settled then. I will arrange a tour for you.”

Juno pressed a hand to his chest in surprise. “You would do that for us?”

“It is my pleasure, Mr. Rose, mine alone! I will send a message to your room and your beloved shall have his wish! And you shall have your new eye, yes?”

“I sincerely hope so, thank you, Mr. Massery.”

Massery stood, a beaming smile on his face. “Expect to hear from me by tomorrow at the latest! I shall bid you goodnight, have a splendid evening, Mr. Rose.”

Juno waited until Massery had disappeared back inside the resort when he jostled Nureyev’s shoulder.

“Duke, wake up–”

“Did you really think I was asleep?” Nureyev whispered, making Juno jump.

“Are you kidding me, N—“

Nureyev clapped a hand over Juno’s mouth, but he was smiling ear to ear.

“I knew you could do it. I always knew you’d be a natural at this.”

Juno pulled Nureyev’s hand away from his mouth. “A natural at lying? No–  something’s off. It was too easy.

Nureyev shrugged. “Maybe. It could be a trap.”  He stood, stretching his long arms above his head.

“Spin it however you like, Dahlia, but you got us _in_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta tell you guys, I'm having a ball writing this. Thank you so much for all of your comments and feedback on the first chapter, it was overwhelming!
> 
> Please be sure to comment and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are love, please let me know what you think! If you want to scream about the Penumbra Podcast with me, check out my tumblr at destielpasta.tumblr.com.


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